Not Quite Dead
by Sammy Heroes
Summary: She didn't want to admit to herself that he would never be back. So much was her grieve that she slowly started to fell into a depression. At night, when she couldn't sleep, she would sit crossed legged in front of her door, looking at it, waiting for him to return and comfort her from her nightmares. But that comfort never came. Until... (oneshot #Pietrolives)


She has never been alone in her life. She wasn't even born alone. She always had her sibling by her side, no matter what was happening. Whenever she had a nightmare, he would be there to comfort her and stay with her all night. When their parents died, he was the only one who helped her move on.

But now, he wasn't here.

He was gone.

Killed.

But he died being a hero. Wanda couldn't be prouder. But only a few weeks since his dead, she already felt like she had been all alone all her life. Because he was not there. Because he was taken away from her too soon. And without his presence, life didn't have a meaning.

The Avengers had taken her under their wing. She suspected it was either out of pity or just to keep an eye on her. She didn't care. It was better than being back in Sokovia. Here, at least, she had some company. But none were her brother. Damn, how much she missed her brother. If only a miracle had saved him but no, life was a bitch and just had to say 'hey, I'm taking you brother away and you can't do a damn thing about it'. Wanda wanted to die. She wanted to simply go to sleep and never wake up. Because her nightmares were only dreams compared to the loneliness that she felt in her heart each and every day.

And she might be getting crazy, or crazier, but sometimes she thought she sensed his mind. But at the end, she just told herself to not to get her hopes up and that it was just her own mind playing tricks at her. The irony.

Sometimes when she walked around the tower to clear her mind, she would look outside the windows and think of how much her brother would've loved the city. She sometimes, unintentionally, picture him buying a large hamburger or a New York Supreme Pizza because of his fast metabolism. Or him pushing her on the swings in Central Park. Like the children they were supposed to be, or at least what was left of those children. The images were lovely for a second, but as soon as they came, they were pushed away in a small corner of her mind and locked out. They were just painful reminders of what life could have been but will never be.

A month. A whole month has passed by and the loneliness in her heart increased and the hopes of him stepping into the tower one day and say that it was just a joke or that he had decided to take a vacation and 'forgot to tell', were diminishing.

Reality slapped her in the face.

Her brother was fast for everything. To eat, to run, to hide, to play, to tease. To die. He died too fast and he didn't wait for her. He didn't.

He had a whole life in front of him. A life full of joy and laughter, just like he always wanted. But instead, nine bullets went through him and died the death of man, not the teen he was. But then again, when was the last time either of them had been kids?

She hoped. She waited. She waited for a sign. For something that would tell her that her brother was still alive. But his comforting presence in her mind was never there. At night, when she couldn't sleep, she would sit crossed legged in front of her door, looking at it, waiting for him to return and comfort her from her nightmares. She knew it was silly, but to her, it was a way of comfort. Somehow. Subconsciously even. She would fall asleep right there on the floor. And at morning, when she woke up, she always realized she had been waiting for a ghost. She told herself she would not do it again.

But then again, that night, she would do it again. And again and again. The same routine every night.

She had become cold, serious, and lifeless, very few times she would laugh. What was the point in life without him? She would sometimes wonder. She never dared to do any of the activities her brother liked to do. Like, well, everything. Everything brought her a memory she didn't want to remember.

Everything was too quiet in her head without her natural twin connection with her brother. She didn't hear his laughter and sometimes she imagined it when she was alone in a room and it scared her. She wanted a hug from her brother to take the fear away. Only to realize that the hug she was waiting for would never come.

Sometimes she felt a ruffling in her head, but when looked at a mirror, her hair was exactly like it was before. Nobody touched it.

Out of her new teammates, Vision was the only one she would spend time with. Not only because he was an interesting being, but that was he fascinating. And his mere presence gave her a comfort of sorts. But it was never enough to make her forget. Sometimes she was tempted to delete her own mind, but that would mean giving up on her brother. And she didn't want to give up on her brother. Never have, never will. Why start at this point?

One day, she stepped into the main room for a small meeting. The Avengers talked about business like usual, Nick Fury and Agent Hill were there too. But Wanda was always looking mindlessly at the floor. She was so distracted, that she didn't noticed the Avengers were quiet. She finally looked up and they were all staring wide eyed at her, except for Fury, who was smirking slightly.

"What?"

No answer. She stood up. She grew frustrated. Her eyes glowed red.

"What!?"

No answer, but Tony looked behind her and then back at her. Did it twice. It was then that she felt a new presence in the room. She turned around.

Her heart skipped a beat. Then two then almost three.

"Hey!" The male teen said, giving out a peace sign.

Wanda's first instinct was to slap him. And she did. The teen gave a soft 'ouch!' and rubbed his cheek, looking at her with wide eyes. But he was hugged almost instantly. And he hugged her back. Wanda cried nonstop, but they were not tears of sadness. They were of relief and happiness.

"You were dead." She said between sobs.

"I know." He answered, ruffling her hair in that way he always did.

"You didn't come back."

"I know."

"I hate you."

"You love me."

Wanda smiled between tears. "That's right, I do."

For one month and a half, she had grieved his death up to the point of depression. Spend countless hours looking at a door that was never opened. Felt an imaginary touch on her head. Imagined how life could have been. And then all suddenly, he was here, truly here. With her. How was he alive? Wanda would ask that later; she was pretty sure Nick Fury had something to do with it. But right now, she just wanted to savor the moment and not let go him.

Yes, Pietro Maximoff was home.

Pietro looked around and then at his sister. "Hey, you can… let go of me now, you know."

Wanda smirked. "Nope."


End file.
